Poetry corner
I think the attached poem by my father, Dennis W Turner, who is 90 years old, completely sums up the Sycamore Gap debacle.
Lynda Plaskett, via email
SYCAMORE GAP by Dennis W Turner
A full 300 years it stood beside that ancient wall; A sycamore, much photographed, majestic, proud and tall.
The tree, precisely centred in a hollow in the land,
Had hills each side and looked as if the whole thing had been planned.
For generations folk had made their pilgrimage to see That landscape of perfection and that lovely, lonely tree. The vision was enchanting and a constant source of pleasure; The sight of such a picture was a memory to treasure.
That scene of perfect symmetry – deserving of its fame – Became the site of devastation, ugliness and shame.
The vandals came in dead of night and dealt a dreadful blow: With chainsaws and malicious thoughts they laid the icon low.
When daylight came, the visitors were startled when they found Their much-admired sycamore was lying on the ground. The horror that had greeted them had caught them by surprise; Despite the proof before them, they could not believe their eyes.
The word soon spread as television crews moved in and saw The sorry sight where harmony had been the day before. A sense of shock and disbelief was felt throughout the land. This mindless, antisocial act was hard to understand.
The future is unknown to us and only time will show If seeds and scions gathered there will germinate and grow. And generations yet to come will get the chance to see A sycamore residing where a sycamore SHOULD be.